‘I am better now,’ Sir Robert assured them. But they did not move away. ‘Are you always so attentive to ailing strangers?’ he asked, curious about the man.
‘Long ago I had the pleasure of befriending your daughter and her husband, Sir Robert,’ the stranger said.
‘You did?’ Sir Robert was amazed.
‘You are acquainted with quite a few people in York,’ said Michaelo, frowning.
‘I had business in your fair city for a time. Captain Archer and Mistress Wilton were kind to me. And to a lad of whom I was fond – Jasper de Melton. What has become of the boy?’
Although he could sense Michaelo’s unease, Sir Robert saw nothing threatening in the stranger’s knowing his family. Indeed, it made him far more comfortable about the man’s attentions. ‘Jasper is my daughter’s apprentice in the apothecary.’
The man was quiet a moment. Sir Robert glanced over, saw a tender expression on the man’s face.
‘Jasper was a great help to Lucie when the pestilence returned to York,’ said Sir Robert.
‘I am glad he has found his place in the world,’ said the stranger, his voice thick with emotion.
Something nudged at Sir Robert’s memory. But it was Michaelo who said quickly, ‘I know who you are. The Fleming Martin Wirthir.’
‘Ah!’ Sir Robert nodded eagerly, recognising the name. Though if the man had not asked after Jasper he would have spent hours, perhaps days trying to remember where he had heard it. He had never met the man who had saved the boy’s life, but he had heard much about him. Not all of it good.
‘His Grace would be interested to know you are here,’ said Michaelo, no friendlier than before. ‘Is the musician with you?’
‘You remember me so well. I am honoured,’ said Wirthir. ‘No, the musician is not with me. Ambrose now resides in Paris and often performs for King Charles.’
‘When I next see my daughter and her husband, I shall tell them of your kindness to me,’ said Sir Robert. He found Michaelo’s hostility embarrassing.
‘Forgive my boldness, Sir Robert,’ said Wirthir, ‘but I would ask whether you have the means to send a messenger to Captain Archer.’
‘A messenger? Why?’
‘I have an urgent letter for the Captain. Do you have someone you might send to Cydweli?’
‘How did you know where he is?’
‘Gossips took interest in his escorting the body of John de Reine back to Cydweli.’
‘Ah.’ Of course they would have talked of it. Sir Robert could see no point in pretending Owen was elsewhere. ‘You mentioned a letter?’
Wirthir drew a roll of parchment from his purse. Once again he suffered awkwardness in using only his left hand. ‘I believe that Captain Archer will wish to ride to St David’s at once when he reads this.’ He held it out to Sir Robert, who noted that it was wrapped in a string and sealed.
‘Why would you wish to draw Captain Archer here?’ Brother Michaelo asked.
Sir Robert shook his head. ‘Peace, Michaelo.’
But Martin Wirthir bowed to Brother Michaelo. ‘You deserve what little explanation I can give, to be sure. I know something about the death of John de Reine. And there are two nearby, arrived today, with whom the Captain would wish to speak.’
‘But this is not the business on which the Captain has come,’ said Sir Robert.
‘It has to do with the other business. A question of treason. A dangerous liaison.’
‘How do you know of this?’ Brother Michaelo asked. ‘Were you the Fleming involved in the troubles in Pembroke?’
Wirthir grinned. ‘Pembroke is full of Flemings, Brother Michaelo, planted there by your wise King.’
‘But––’
‘I said peace, Michaelo!’ Sir Robert snapped. If for no other reason than to alert Owen to Wirthir’s knowledge of his interest in Gruffydd ap Goronwy’s trouble, he must now send the messenger. To add a letter could do no harm – provided Sir Robert read it first. He bowed to Wirthir. ‘I do have a man I might send. He is trustworthy. But you have not explained. The two who arrived – why is that important to Owen? Who are they?’
‘The wife of the steward of Cydweli. And the priest who travelled to Cydweli with the Captain. It is best that I say no more. One of them may be in danger. But I would ask you to tell no one of our meeting save the messenger and Captain Archer.’
‘Presumptuous––’ Brother Michaelo clamped his mouth shut as Sir Robert gave him a dark look.
‘You can trust us,’ Sir Robert said.
Wirthir handed him the letter. ‘God bless you.’
Sir Robert tucked the letter into his scrip. ‘May God watch over the messenger.’
They were now at Patrick’s Gate. Martin Wirthir bowed, wished them Godspeed, and withdrew into the crowd.
‘I wonder what is wrong with his right hand?’ Sir Robert said.
‘He has none,’ Michaelo said. ‘Do you not remember? Beware that one, Sir Robert.’
Eighteen
THE PIRATE’S WARNING
A
s he walked down the slope towards the cathedral, Sir Robert felt sweat trickling down his back. High up on the cliff over St Non’s Bay the breeze had been chilly despite the bright sun; but here in the valley there was no breeze. He pushed back his hat, plucked at his pilgrim’s gown, its rough cloth beginning to itch as the sweat made it stick to his skin. And such a weakness in his legs. He was embarrassed how he leaned on Brother Michaelo’s shoulder for support.
‘You do not need to suffer in that coarse gown,’ Michaelo said, putting an arm round Sir Robert. Michaelo’s habit was of a very fine, soft wool cloth from Flanders, sewn by a tailor in Paris. ‘You are wretched enough with the cough.’
‘Your parents did no favour to the Church when they gave you to God,’ Sir Robert muttered as he wriggled in his clothing, ‘you who devote yourself to the delicate art of balancing just on the edge of your vows.’ Perhaps it was good they walked so close together, for Sir Robert’s voice was so weak his companion might not hear him if he stood upright and at a normal distance.
Rather than returning the insult, Brother Michaelo asked, ‘You do intend to read the letter?’
Sir Robert felt it a risk to send the messenger without knowing the contents of the letter – what if he was being used to lure Owen into a trap? But would Owen trust a letter with a broken seal? ‘It is sealed.’
‘A seal can be eased open and resealed if one has the skill.’
‘And you do?’
Michaelo bowed slightly. ‘Some failings are useful.’
God bless him. ‘What was it that he did, Michaelo? To lose the hand?’
‘It was a madman who did it. It has nothing to do with us.’
‘What did Archbishop Thoresby want with him?’
‘He needed a witness. Martin Wirthir did not wish to oblige.’
‘Come,’ Michaelo urged. ‘The porter will surely remember whether the wife of Lancaster’s steward arrived with the vicar.’
But the porter did not recall seeing Father Edern with a woman, though several women had arrived at the palace that morning.
‘It is no fors,’ Sir Robert said as they passed through the second doorway and into the great hall. ‘The letter will tell us whether to trust him.’
They went to their chamber, where Michaelo expressed delight to find the brazier still alight despite the warm afternoon. ‘We are fortunate they consider you old and infirm,’ Michaelo said as he set a pot of water over the fire. ‘We need the steam for the seal as well as for your lungs.’
Precisely. Because I
am
old and infirm, Sir Robert thought as he eased down on the bed. His head pounded and his limbs trembled. He had not coughed in a while, but his chest felt heavy and he experienced an unpleasant rumble with each breath. It seemed no time at all before Michaelo joined him, presenting the scroll without seal.
‘Shall I read it aloud?’ Michaelo asked.
‘My eyes are not so bad as that,’ Sir Robert said. But in truth he found the writing small and crabbed. ‘Perhaps so. I have a headache.’ He lay back on the pillows. Brother Michaelo tucked a few more behind him, slipped off his shoes.
A servant knocked, entered with a tray of wine, water and fruit. Michaelo took the tray and sent the servant away.
‘It would not do to give them bad example,’ Michaelo said. He was obviously enjoying the intrigue. He began to read aloud:
‘
Right well beloved friend
,
I recommend me to you and pray you take heed of my tidings. I have in my custody a man who may give good account of a certain incident on Whitesands. He is hunted by many, but his gravest danger is from one who seeks to silence him and whose treasonous act begat all this trouble. I have no doubt the traitor will follow hard upon two who arrive today. Come to me in the place at which you rose from the valley with your burden.
Godspeed.
‘At least he does not hide his profession,’ Michaelo said. He looked up from the document. ‘I do not like this.’
‘Nor do I. But Owen must at least be warned that Martin Wirthir is here and knows of his interest in traitors to the King. We must send it.’ A messenger normally took three days from here to Cydweli, though it was said that a fast rider with fresh horses each day might make it in two. If the messenger left this afternoon he might be there by Sunday. And yet it was now mid-afternoon. ‘Summon Edmund. He will ride at first light.’
‘Not at once?’
‘What is the use? He would not get far by nightfall. Better he be fresh at the beginning.’
‘But time is of––’
‘––the essence. I know. And yet I have always found it wise to sleep on something as important as this missive. When I served the King I was respected for my thoroughness, which comes only by taking one’s time.’ Sir Robert smiled. ‘Besides, my friend, it will give you time to reseal this letter.’
Michaelo chuckled. ‘True enough. It takes a steady hand, and I am much excited.’
‘Does His Grace know of your skill with seals?’ Surely the Archbishop of York received documents meant for his eyes alone. He was sometime advisor to the King.
‘If His Grace guesses it, he keeps his own counsel. Will you tell the Captain of Brother Dyfrig’s prying questions about the missing pilgrim and the Captain’s purpose in Wales?’
‘God bless you for assisting my memory. Edmund shall tell Owen of the monk’s interest and who arrived today. Wirthir takes care to mention no one and no place by name.’
After Edmund had been informed of his journey and had been given the information to memorise and instructions to come at first light for the letter, Brother Michaelo urged Sir Robert to drink some soothing herbs in honey water and lie down to rest until the evening meal. Sir Robert refused to rest – he must go to the chapel and give thanks for the vision with which God had blessed him. Few men were granted such a gift, to be assured through such a vision that his prayers had been answered, that Amélie forgave him. He had delayed his thanks too long already, though surely God would see that it was important to read the letter and prepare Edmund. But to delay his thanks any longer would be unforgivable. Brother Michaelo acquiesced, but insisted on accompanying Sir Robert in case he felt faint and needed help. As the Fleming had said, to receive a vision was exhausting to a mortal man. And Sir Robert was already weak.
Weak, yes, Sir Robert thought. But with the messenger instructed and Amélie’s forgiveness assured, he felt at peace. He no longer feared death, nor did he wish to delay it. He did not confide these thoughts to Brother Michaelo for fear the monk would misinterpret his intentions and put a guard on him. Already he hovered too much.
‘I must give thanks for St Non’s beneficence, Michaelo. Not only for my vision, but for Martin Wirthir’s assistance.’
‘We shall see whether we ought to be grateful about his assistance.’
‘Why do you distrust him?’
‘Honesty is not his trade, Sir Robert. At best he has been a pirate, at worst a spy for the enemies of our King. Why should we trust him?’
‘Because he has been known to step out of his role – remember what he did for Jasper. But be that as it may, I wish to go to the chapel. Come.’
‘What was it that you saw in the waters of the well?’ Michaelo asked as they stepped out into the corridor.
Sir Robert described Amélie’s face, her fleeting smile. ‘It is the healing for which I prayed.’
Brother Michaelo crossed himself. ‘Truly you have been blessed, Sir Robert.’
‘I pray that you have been likewise blessed, that you will dream no more of Brother Wulfstan.’
‘Perhaps my bad dreams are a substitute for my conscience.’
At the door to the chapel Sir Robert stayed Brother Michaelo. ‘I know you mean well, my friend, but I would be alone in my devotions.’
‘What if you fall into a swoon? Who will find you?’
‘Come for me in a little while.’